My interest in Oscar Fistorius pretty much end where his legs do, so you can imagine that I have no fucks to give about the international OUTRAGE his murder trial has brought about. I am quite astonished about the amount of attention this case is attracting. I mean seriously, a juiced-up professional athlete offing one of his side pieces and then denying all accountability is hardly something new or out of the ordinary. Still, this shit drags on and everyone from FAS face toddlers to chain-smoking grannies are sitting with their dinner on their laps GLUED to the screen.

For those of you who – like me – have been avoiding this story like a herp-ridden peen, allow me to give you an abridged version of this mess in chronological order:

Fistorius is born in 1986 with some weird-ass birth defect and his legs were amputated below the knee.

A natural meathead, Fistorius participates in all that is sport at school.

A serious knee injury (yes, he has knees asshole!) forces Fistorius to leave behind sports like rugby and take up running.

All the while, those following the trial are subjected to a translator that makes you want to borrow Fistorius’s blades to slice your own ears off. While this shit is going on and on and on, here is a reminder of the days when the only guns we were concerned about were the ones attached to his shoulders:

I know this is utterly juvenile, but does the picture above remind anyone else of this scene from South Park? I don’t know at what stage of the will-they-wont-they dance of seduction this photo was taken (google images does not have a “show only pre-/post-scissor images” function). If I had to guess, this was taken before Ma Zille was lashing out at Ma Ramphele (‘s pussay, because kissing after munching on a glycerined vag is unsanitary and just not ladylike).

If, like me, you’ve been using your bandwidth solely for Grindr purposes these past few months then this image wont make ANY fucking sense. This image makes no sense, so allow me to explain. A few months back, these two ladies sealed a deal with a lipsmack (I’m not saying which lips got smacked, because I’m fucking classy), which would mean a party coalition between AGANG SA and the DA for the upcoming elections in May 2014.

As one would expect, party members and political commentators were unable to discuss this coalition without the discourse being laced with the stench of racial divide. Critics seemed to care more about Helen Zille being white than the fact that she was actually an active fighter against Apartheid. SIGH. Whether mounting pressures from all angles resulted in the eventual split, we’ll probably never know. What we do know, however, is that the power pair in pants suits is now 100% DONE with each other.

I think this is a fucking travesty. Announcing Ramphele as presidential candidate actually gave the DA a fighting chance against those thieving bastards who call themselves the ANC. DOUBLE SIGH. I need to go funnel a bottle of Tas now.

I’ve been on sabbatical…no, that’s a lie. Saying I’ve been on sabbatical implies that a) I get paid for spewing Mzansi-flavoured filth all over the internet and that b) spewing Mzansi-flavoured filth all over the internet is a legitimate occupation. None of these are the case, so let’s just call a (gold digger) spade a (gold digger) space and say that I was being a lazy cunt and had absolutely NO fucks to give about blogging.

Firing up the old TOS-shiba and glancing over the stories making the news during my absence seem to indicate that the fuckery did not stop oozing out of the headlines while I wasn’t reading them. DA and AGANG held a scissor-fest, Oscar Fistorius had/has the entire world losing their SHIT, politicians were serving FUPA REALNESS on the red carpet, floods made Gauteng look like the massive gaping vagina of nation that it is and the collective insanity cluster-fuck that is Red October seems to have gone airborne, infecting the minds of a bunch of fucktards in the USA.

For your reading pleasure, I will discuss each of these incidents separately, to allow for the appropriately timed puke-breaks. You’re welcome.